The Fine Flamingo

The fine flamingo left his flock
in a beautiful bright blue boat,
the tips of his wings were coiled like springs
and he wore a Fair Isle coat.
The sails blew wide as he ran the tide
to the wondrous isle of Bongle,
there he found on the edge of the sand
a magical blue and gold Quongle. 

With a shimmering shell of salted pearls 
it sang soft there by the sea,
‘Dear bird’ it said with your feathers of pink,
how nice that you’re visiting me.
You’ve sailed the spray on this breezy day
right here to my island of Bongle,
if you rub well my shell, a wish I will sell,
for I am the mystical Quongle.

Give me your boat and a feather or two,
and what’s your desire fine fellow?’
The flamingo said ‘Ooooh! Now what shall I do?
Aaah yes, I’d like to be yellow.’
So the Quongle on Bongle wriggled its ears
while the flamingo rub-dubbed its shell,
in a silver flash bright with a sizzling light,
the flamingo screeched out a yell.

Now everyone knows if you mix colours up
you must be careful you know,
Mix yellow with pink and what do you get?
Yes an orangey-red sort of glow. 
Magnificent, glorious the flamingo emerged
like a phoenix from ashes he rose
feathered and fine, fiery orange divine
from his head to the tips of his toes!

The flamingo looked down, ‘I’m not yellow’ he cried
‘but ooooh what a wonderful thing’.
The Quongle laughed loud. ‘Here’s a crown’ he replied,
‘gold tinted and fit for a king.’
He twirled on his toes in a merry jig-jig
and jumped in the boat of bright blue
‘I’ve always wanted to explore’ he sang
‘the jungles of inner Peru.’

He sailed away on the crest of a wave
and for all I know of this tale
he could be dancing with monkeys,
or sipping green tea with a whale.
While there on the sands of Bongle
if ever you go there to fish
he’s left just one thing, it’s a bright golden ring.
Just rub it, and make a big wish.